


You know I'll come around if you ask me, ask me

by xcarex



Category: What If It's Us - Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera
Genre: Benthur, Best Friends, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Queer Relationship, Do-Over, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Getting Back Together, Homosexuality, Hopeful Ending, Idiots in Love, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, New York City, OTP Feels, Phone Sex, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Romantic Friendship, Second Chances, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, post-epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcarex/pseuds/xcarex
Summary: They're both in college, and it's only a 2 hour drive, but they still haven't seen each other since That Summer?  Fuck that.  Following the boys through the next few months post-epilogue, Arthur and Ben (slowly) get their act together. <3
Relationships: Ben Alejo/Arthur Seuss
Comments: 30
Kudos: 60





	You know I'll come around if you ask me, ask me

**ARTHUR**  
Thursday, January 16th

Living in Connecticut but never going to New York City has been _super_ weird. 

When I had applied to come here for school, and even more so when I was accepted, I thought I'd be going to the city all the time. It's pretty much a 2 hour drive from Wesleyan campus to Ben's apartment, which is a vast improvement from the 14 hour drive from Milton, Georgia. I've looked it up on Google Maps only about a million times, memorizing the routes. Usually late at night, when we've FaceTimed recently, or he posts a cute new selfie, or in my thirstiest moments, when my bed feels particularly empty. 

But, I don't have my car here, since my parents didn't think it made sense to drive it all the way up from Georgia as I live in a dorm. And you have to be 21 to rent a car and I'm still a few years away from that, so that's out. I could take the bus or train and still be there in like four hours, and I could even do homework or study on the way, so it wouldn't even be a waste of precious free time... 

But none of it matters, because Ben still hasn't asked me to come visit.

I can't tell if he wants me to, but just thinks it would be weird since we're not together anymore? Or if he legitimately doesn't want to see me. And I don't want to _ask_. I can't take the chance that he doesn't want me around. He says he misses me all the time, but he never ever says "I want to see you, Arthur. Come here. Come to New York."

He's my best friend, we've stayed so close despite the distance, so it's just wild that in theory I could wake up and go see him any weekend, but I don't. Or he could even come visit me if he wanted. I'd even pay for his train ticket (if he'd let me), but he's never suggested it. 

It sucks.

It's been over a year and a half since we said our epic goodbye at our post office. It was hard to leave the city and go home after all that had happened, but yeah, we had our senior years to look forward to. We _both_ did, thank fuck Ben wasn't held back, because that would have crushed him. Now we're in college and, with texting and Instagram and FaceTime, it still hasn't really felt like we're that far apart, even though we're living separate lives. I guess I just thought thought being physically nearer would feel like we had more options. I'm only one state away, not all the way down in Georgia anymore, but it's still not enough. 

We're close. But so, so far apart. 

What's even more ridiculous is that I could go pretty much any time, whether he invites me or not. He wouldn't have to put me up. I have a place to stay. My mom has been working at the New York branch of Smilowitz & Bernbaum again, just a few weeks here and there every couple of months, on another case. Naturally, she's staying with Great-Uncle Milton when she comes up, although I cringed when I realized that meant she was sleeping in "my" room now, on the same bottom bunk in which I lost my virginity. Mom doesn't _ever_ need to know that. I just hope I peeled off all the heart stickers before we left at the end of our summer.

So, going to New York is totally an option. It's not a crazy "show up and expect to spend the entire time with Ben" thing. Low pressure. But, okay, I get that we're both in college and I should be focused on my studies and seriously, I'm _trying_. And there are lots of cute guys around and I ought to be likewise focused on them, too. Ben has even listened to me talk about those other cute guys that aren't him, like when I was briefly seeing Mikey last semester, because it's what totally platonic guy best friends do, just like I have with Ethan, just like he has with Dylan. 

But of course it's not exactly like with them at all. I love Ben. I am still _in_ love with him. I still want to kiss him, way more than any of the boys I've kissed since Ben. None of them have measured up, and none have been deemed relationship-worthy, much less sex-worthy. 

It's just not the same. 

Not when I already know what an epic romance feels like. Not when I'm already in love.

Ben and I FaceTimed every day over the winter break and it was wonderful. It started when he finished _The Wicked Wizard War_ and then just became our habit for the rest of the holiday. We haven't had that much time together for months, as we settled into our new lives. I even felt like he was a little flirty sometimes when we talked late at night, but in that cool Ben way, in that quiet voice that made my heart beat faster and my dick a little hard. Long sleepy conversations, curled up in our respective beds, faces close enough to the screen that I could count his freckles if I tried. 

We talked about everything. We talked about his writing, and musicals, and dumb shit our friends have gotten up to, and what gifts we got for Hanukkah and Christmas. I sent him a gift card for the latest Sims expansion pack, taped to a photo of us from my birthday party with green diamonds drawn above our heads (he loved it, I'm awesome). He wrote me another side story about Ben-Jamin and King Arturo, which was extremely sweet but sadly not as X-rated as I'd secretly hoped it would be. 

It was the conversations about _us_ that mattered, though. When he was sweet with me. When we got real for a second. Knowing that that door is still open, even just an inch... acknowledging that was the best gift.

Now that I'm back in Connecticut for second term, it's back to the grind. And we've cut back on the FaceTime, mostly because I get less privacy living in a dorm with a roommate. My friendship with Ben, even when doing the super fucking platonic thing, always feels private. 

But that means it's after midnight and instead of talking to Ben, or godforbid sleeping, I'm back on Google Maps, making plans for a visit that I need _him_ to want.

**BEN**  
Saturday, January 25th

I gotta be honest: I didn't know that it was possible to actually enjoy school. College is hard, yes, but it's starting to feel like something I can handle. 

I'm getting into the rhythm of going to class, studying, writing, and working part time stocking shelves at the Duane Reade a few blocks down from our apartment. Not my Pa's store, a different one. Pa didn't think it would look professional for him to hire his own son, nepotism and all that, but he put in a good word for me at another location. I started here last summer, right after graduation, so I could finally buy that new-to-me laptop off Craigslist. Both of my parents are both working so hard to pay my tuition so I help out as much as I can, and what's left from my paycheck goes towards my books, and my phone, and not much else left over. But what else is new? I'm used to scraping by. 

First semester was a little bumpy. The work was challenging, but it was more the social aspect that sucked. I almost never talk to Hudson or Harriett, as they're both busy with school too. Being a student that's from the city, especially one that still lives at home, kinda set me apart from the other freshmen coming from around the country. It didn't help that so many of them reminded me too much of Arthur: wide-eyed not-tourists, with big city dreams and too many preconceived notions, only looking at New York through pop culture goggles. But I've been making an effort. I'm talking to people. I'm making headway. 

Everything is a little easier, except... Arthur.

Arthur shouldn't even be a factor right now, as he's up at Wesleyan kissing other boys and I'm not allowed to be grumpy about it. It's what I wanted. I was the one who didn't think we should do long distance, and to not hold each other back from new experiences through our senior year and beyond. 

I was the one who wanted to be alone. Not single, just alone. I didn't end things because I was looking to date other guys. I know full well the universe isn't going to hand-deliver another Arthur.

(And it hasn't.)

I wanted to be alone because I needed time to figure out my own shit first. And I'm doing that? Yay me? 

But -- and Arthur would be so proud of me -- to quote Angelica Schuyler: _That doesn't mean I want him any less._

Asking to just be "best friends" might possibly be the dumbest idea I've had yet. Especially when we were FaceTiming every night over the holidays, always in bed, and he was looking so fucking soft and warm. 

I literally ached for him, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying what I really wanted to say multiple times, because I'd be crossing the very line I put in between us. Stuff like "Holy shit, Arthur, you look so good tonight" and "I wish I was there right now" and "Are you touching yourself? Do you wish it was me? Can I make you come?" 

Okay, so I was thinking with my dick a lot. Dylan has been a terrible influence.

When Arthur first left New York, I did my best to stay distracted. I threw myself into school, and repairing my squad's friendship, and finishing _The Wicked Wizard War_. Anything to keep my mind off the summer I'd had with Arthur, and how deeply I still care about him, and reminiscing over the many attempted dates, and the few glorious chances we'd had to be alone and sweaty and naked, even if they didn't always go the way either of us planned. I tried to think about literally anything else. I didn't want to pine.

But now that everyone is away at college, and the story is finished, and my grades are okay and I'm actually not completely dreading midterms in a few weeks... well, it's been over a year and all the old distractions are fading.

When I'm not distracting myself from Arthur, I'm distracted _by_ Arthur. I can't help but feel like it's always going to be one or the other. I suppose that's what being in love with someone you can't have is all about. 

It's my fault that I can't have him.

It's my fault that I'm in this situation.

It's my fault that I can't stop thinking about all the what-ifs and wondering what he's doing right this minute. And that I can't stop fantasizing about him just showing up and surprising me one weekend, totally unplanned and out of the blue. Just to walk downstairs one morning and have Arthur waiting outside my building. 

But I can't expect that to happen. And why should I? Arthur is having the time of his life at Wesleyan (if his Instagram stories are anything to go by), and I'm moping around my childhood bedroom on a Saturday night, still thirsting over the boy I fell for and subsequently turned away over a year and a half ago. I wallow in how pathetic I am. 

If only we were Ben-Jamin and King Arturo, and wizard magic was real. I would summon Arthur/Arturo with a spell, and zap! He'd just appear in my bedroom. He'd be shocked, of course, being summoned by a wizard is hard to prepare for. But it would be a welcome surprise. He'd be pleased to see me after all this time. I'd pull him in for a kiss and apologize for being the biggest fucking idiot of all time, and ask for the ultimate do-over. He'd say something adorable -- he'd say a lot of things, let's be real, but I'd be happy to let him ramble -- and then I'd teach him how to do some teleportation spells so he could come visit me whenever he wanted, and we'd finally get our happily ever after.

But that wasn't how _The Wicked Wizard War_ ended. And it's not how my Saturday night is going to end, either. 

I debate texting Arthur for the hundredth time, just to check in, see what he's up to, but I keep erasing everything I type because it all sounds so dumb or clingy. I opt for sending a goofy meme instead, but he doesn't see it right away, much less send a reply so I force myself to put my phone down.

He's probably out doing super fun shit with his friends. I hate how bitter that comes off, because I have no right to be. I remind myself that I could be doing that too, if I made more of an effort instead of mostly hanging out with people between classes. There's no point in being envious. I'm happy for Arthur. I'd just be happier _with_ Arthur. 

I climb into bed, resigned to accept that magical summoning spells simply don't exist.

**ARTHUR**  
Friday, February 14th

I've never really been into the whole Valentine's Day thing. It used to be just a day where Jessie would make cookies and we'd all get together to watch cheesy rom coms, and make fun of the goofy implausibility of the epic serendipitous plots. Then I lived my own implausible romance, and I started to get the appeal a little more, but then I spent last Valentine's alone as Ethan and Jessie obviously had their own thing going on. I had been an expert third wheel all year, but even that was something I opted out of. 

I spent most of it sulking. It wasn't a good look.

So I was stoked to have a little bit of structure to the day, and an excuse not to sit around stewing in my own romantic failure. The acapella group I'm in do an annual fundraiser on Valentine's. We get hired by students to serenade their partners, or crushes, or profs (usually to waste time in a class, and we usually get chased out). Students give us the cash, tell us when and where and who, and pick a song from our repertoire. We spent most of the day running around campus ambushing people with our musical stylings.

It's not exactly a flash mob marriage proposal, but it's close. Just no marching band. Or fated meet-cutes with a certain Box Boy.

We'd just finished surprising (or at least, embarrassing the hell out of) a sweet-looking boy in the athletic centre with a rendition of a classic One Direction song when I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

"Hey, it's Arthur right?"

I turned around and had to sharply look up. A gorgeous guy with tousled black hair and a brilliant smile is towering over me. He's nearly a head taller, and his arms... Holy moly. He looks like he could just scoop me up.

"Uh, hi, yeah. Arthur." I squinted. Fuck, I can't remember this guy's name. He lives on the floor above me, I think. "I've... um, seen you around."

He beamed down at me, nodding. "I've seen you, too. I forgot that you guys did this until you came into the dining hall at lunch earlier with that Beyoncé medley. I thought that girl was going to cry." He paused. "You sounded great just now."

I could feel my face heating up almost instantly. "Thanks," I manage to reply. Jeez, I'm terrible at taking compliments. "It's my first year. It's goofy but a lot of fun. We still have a few more of these to do this afternoon, too." 

"Oh, sorry, I don't want to keep you." He glances at the other folks in my group a few feet away, and I know they're waiting for me. "I just wanted to say Hi. I've kind of been looking for an excuse to talk to you." (Hold up, is he blushing too?) "This seemed like a pretty good one."

"Oh, ah..." I don't know what to do with this information, but I'm totally happy to hear it. "I'm glad you did?" Wow, gold medal conversationalist. 

"Yeah?" He suddenly looks more than a bit self-conscious, runs a hand through his hair. His very nice hair. "Could I maybe buy you a coffee later, when you're done?"

Whoa, jumping right to it. On Valentine's Day no less. It's a Friday, I have no excuses, no reason not to. Other than hitting the convenience store at midnight to score some clearance sale boxes of chocolates with my roommate, I have no plans tonight. And did I mention he's _really_ cute? "Yeah," I grin. "Yes, totally." 

I give him my number, and he texts me a smiley emoji right away. I go to save him as a contact, and realize I still don't know his name. Rookie mistake. I've learned this lesson the hard way. "Sorry, this is so dumb, but what is your name?" Thumbs poised over the screen to type it into the contact.

"Oh right," he laughs, realizing he hadn't actually introduced himself yet. We're both shitty at this, which is nice. "Ben. Ben Akiyama."

 _Dear universe: FUCK. OFF._ His name is BEN?

There's unfair, and then there's this.

A few hours later, we finish our last performance and my voice is coming out rougher, my throat feeling a bit raw. I suck down some honey lemon tea, and give myself a once-over in the mirror. Have the contacts vs glasses debate. Change my shirt three times.

I have just enough time to adequately psych myself up for the date now that the busy part of my day is over... and yet, his name is Ben. 

I have to keep saying it, but it doesn't get any less weird. His name feels just wrong in my mouth. What do I call him, Other Ben? Ben Number Two?

I text Jessie my "news" and it all sounds so silly. **Happy Valentines! Guess what? I have a date tonight!**

 **Oooh, happy Vday! Tell me everything!** Jessie replies almost instantly. **Who is he?**

**You're never gonna believe it. HIS NAME IS BEN.**

Jessie replies with a gif of Chrissy Teigen cringing. Accurate.

 **I know,** I add a side-eye emoji. **It's weird, right? Too weird?**

Shrugging girl emoji. **I guess it's only weird if you let it be weird. Does he look like him? You aren't trying to Frankenstein together a replacement Ben?**

 **I can never replace him. That's kind of the problem.** It's also pretty hard to replace someone who is basically just lives on my phone. 

**You're either with Ben or you're not. Last I checked, you're not.** Leave it to Jessie to be the voice of reason. **Sorry to be harsh but you've never held back from meeting new guys since that summer. Why start now?**

 **I guess you're right. And he IS really hot. And it IS Valentines Day.** Heart-eyes emoji, heart-eyes emoji.

I can almost feel Jessie sighing at me through her phone. **Go have fun on your date, Arthur. You deserve it!** Then she adds a winky face for good measure.

Fuck it, she's right. First Ben isn't here and he's not going to be. I'm being silly.

I head out to meet up with this Ben, new Ben, determined to let him show me a _very_ good time. 

**BEN**  
Tuesday, March 10th

Spring break sure isn't like it looks in the movies. I'm not on a beach in Cancun, I'm not doing keg stands with frat bros or working on my tan or grinding up on some stranger in a club. I'm working extra shifts all week, just trying to pull in as much money as I can. 

I had to trade away some of my regular shifts to study for my midterms and my bank account definitely took a hit, so this is the opportunity I was hoping for. Dylan and Samantha have their break next week and I'm honestly grateful they aren't around this week too, I'd be so torn between hanging with them 24/7 and the cash. 

Besides, them being home will absolutely mean a significant increase in absurdly-priced coffees, so I will have to budget that in as well. It's easy to not have a busy social life when you can't really afford it, but they're obviously an exception.

I've barely heard from Arthur over the last few weeks, and based on his social media, I figure out pretty quickly there's a new guy in his life. He's not tagged so I can't creep on him, which is probably for my own good, but he's hot as hell and has been all over Arthur's stories up until a few days ago. Arthur is back in Georgia for his break this week (no wild beach vacation for him either) and I'd been hoping we might fall back into the nightly chats we had over Christmas. But it's Tuesday... he's had a few days. 

So despite being wrung out and exhausted from a long shift, already halfway asleep, when I hear my phone ping with a new message from Arthur (yes, he has his own alert sound, don't @ me), I wake up enough to roll over and check it immediately.

And when I see what he sent, I'm _wide_ awake.

 **Miss you,** the text reads. And then a picture: a warmly-lit, mostly-naked Arthur, reclining in his bed at home. I just gape at my screen, the picture taken from a sharp angle that didn't exactly show his face (ever sensible), but I know his face, that's definitely his chin, his neck, though his body looks even better than I remember. My mind goes blank. He still has his underwear on, but he's touching himself through his clothes... I can't stop staring. 

What the fuck. What the _fuck._ Nothing for weeks and then _this?_

But also... this is not something you leave on Read. Despite my hands shaking, I manage to thumb out a reply.

 **Holy shit, you look incredible,** I text back. It's not my most eloquent reply, but I definitely don't know what else to say, I'm thunderstruck by the unexpected hotness of Arthur. Maybe talking will be easier. I fumble for my earbuds, hitting the FaceTime button.

He doesn't accept the call request.

I text him again. **Arthur?** No response but I see the Read receipt. **Hey, are you still there?** I consider a suggestive emoji but it seems too cheesy. I don't want to fuck this up.

The ellipses blink for a moment before his next message pops up, and my stomach drops. **Fuck fuck fuckkkkk that wasn't for you!!!**

Oh no. The other guy, I remember. Mystery Instagram guy. 

**OMG Ben I am so sorry**

I hit FaceTime again, and this time he answers, and even in the dim light of his bedroom, as the pixelated image adjusts, I can tell that his face is _crimson_. "Hey," I say. I try to be normal. Trying very hard.

"Oh my god, I'm so fucking embarrassed." Arthur looks positively distraught. "It was for, uh, _ahem,_ " he coughs, "the other Ben." 

"There's another _Ben_?" I feel a really odd surge of jealousy. Not just that Arthur is texting another guy almost-dick pics, but that this guy has the audacity to also be named Ben. Like I have dibs on the name, there can be only one.

"Yeah, we, uh, started seeing each other a couple weeks ago I guess? Kinda? It's weird, I don't know, maybe it's not really anything. Maybe we're just hanging out. But he's at some resort in the Dominican with a bunch of his friends for the break and..." He trails off. "And I was thinking about him. Obviously."

"And you sent it to me instead." Shit.

Arthur groans, rubs a hand over his face. "Yeah. Slip of the thumb, I guess." Jesus, the difference a couple of years makes. He's not wearing his glasses, and for a moment he looks like the Arthur I knew, but his jaw is a little scruffier... and his... okay, I can't get that picture out of my head. Not that I want to.

"Mm hmm." I sigh and roll over, trying to get comfortable. "Is it ...okay for me to say that I'm really, really glad you made that mistake?"

"It's not _not_ okay," he answers slowly, and I could swear I saw even the briefest of smiles.

"Are you and this Ben guy officially a thing?" I tread carefully, playing with the cord of the earbuds, wrapping it around my fingers. I know what being cheated on feels like and regardless of my history with Arthur, and the feelings that I have for him... "I just, you know, don't want to be ‘that guy'."

Arthur wrinkles his nose, squinting thoughtfully. "We're not official, no. We went on a couple of dates before break but I'm still just getting to know him? We've mostly been, ah, having fun." _Now_ he's being coy?? "I like him. But I'm not sure how much I like-like him."

"Enough to send him that picture," I joke. I keep my tone light, trying harder to squash down the jealousy.

"I thought he'd be into it," he shrugs, and I'm surprised at his candor. "I sent him one yesterday too, but I, uh, haven't heard from him since he left. Must be having a good trip." 

"Oh. Huh." I try harder to sound sympathetic. Best friend-mode Ben. "That sucks."

"Yeah." Arthur makes a face, still a little embarrassed. "I am so sorry, I guess that sounds kind of desperate. Fuck. This is so weird. I didn't think I'd be resorting to thirst traps for attention after less than a month."

I can't help but sigh. "Arthur, don't apologize. If he hasn't texted you after getting a picture like that, he's an idiot. You looked fucking hot." Ugh, now I'm the one blushing. Get a grip, Alejo. "You always do, you still do."

Arthur looks away from his phone, but that small smile is back. "Thanks." He's quiet for a moment, and then looks back at me. "You really liked it?"

I had to stifle a laugh. "Are you kidding? Yes, course I did. I nearly dropped my damn phone. You've never sent me anything like that before."

"Technically, I didn't mean to send it this time, either," Arthur chuckles softly. I'm so glad he's already getting over the awkwardness. 

"I'm sorry, I know it's not meant for me. But if I were this other guy, it would be a cruel tease, seeing you like... like that, and not getting to touch you. Not getting to be with you. If the other picture you sent this other Ben was anything like this one," and I pop out of FaceTime to look at it again, just for a second, because I'm weak. I feel my body getting warmer. "He's an idiot." I repeat. "Because I couldn't _wait_ to talk to you when I thought it was for me."

"I didn't realize you'd react that way." Arthur looks likes he's considering something, licks his lips. I try not to stare. "I, ah, didn't think you'd want that."

He's right, I probably shouldn't want this. "That's fair," I acknowledge. The whole just-friendship thing was my idea, afterall. "There aren't a lot of platonic reasons to send dick pics, despite what Dylan might say."

Arthur laughs, a real laugh this time. "Dylan just wants to show everyone his dick all the time. Even I've seen it, and we barely ever talk. He wanted my ‘gay opinion' on a picture before he sent it to Samantha. I thought it would be an outfit or something. It definitely was not."

"He's always been very proud of it." I shake my head. "Anyway, you're right. I know I haven't exactly given you any signs of um, encouragement. I thought it was for the best, considering everything. Plus we've both got so much going on with school and..." Now I'm the one rambling. "And then I haven't really heard from you lately."

"But you haven't really texted me either," Arthur protests. "I haven't gone anywhere."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to shut you out either. I guess I just saw this guy who I am now guessing is Ben on your IG stories and thought you might need some space."

"I don't want space from _you_." He looks exasperated now, rubbing his jaw again. "I was _less_ space. I want to see you."

"I want to see you, too." I say softly, but frown. "It's been too long. I didn't think it would be like this when you left at the end of the summer." 

I almost say _I thought you'd come visit_ but don't.

"Me neither," Arthur rolls over in his bed and as he jostles his phone, I catch a glimpse of his chest, and the expanse of skin is practically glowing in the lamp light. "I thought we'd do a lot more of this, for starters."

"Send each other accidental nudes?" I tease.

"No," he smiles. "Just, talk openly about everything. It was so much easier to talk when we were together. I love having you as a friend but now it usually feels like we're ignoring the elephant in the room." He's staring me down through the screen now, phone on his pillow like I'm lying next to him, and I feel like he's changed the angle on purpose, just to mess with me. His voice goes a bit quiet. "Just because we decided not to do long distance, didn't mean my feelings changed. And they haven't."

Whoa. And there it is. Arthur still has feelings for me. I feel a little light-headed.

"I'm so sorry for the way I ended things," I admit. "I'm sorry I ended them at all. I guess I thought it would be easier this way. For both of us." I sure fucked that up.

"It's not." He swallows, looks pensive. "I miss you. In every way, Ben. I miss _us_."

"I miss us, too." I push the hair out of my eyes, and I notice Arthur is watching me intently, the same as I've been watching him. I stretch out a little, pulling the phone away farther and watch him watch the way I move. 

We're both quiet for a minute, just breathing, staring at our phones, at what our cameras show, almost but not really at each other. Not being able to reach out and touch. He feels so far away. 

"I miss being with you like this," I say quietly. "Although we've never done this, not exactly." 

He raises an eyebrow. "What _are_ we doing?"

I clear my throat, stalling for confidence. "We're going to go back to talking about how fucking good you look in that picture." I bite my lip, knowing this is risky, and give him what I hope is a sexy smile. "I didn't delete it. Can I look at it again?"

"You don't have to do that," he says, and I pause.

"Do what? Compliment you?"

"No," Arthur says. "You don't have to look at it. I... I could just show you." And before I can respond, suddenly the camera flips position and I'm seeing Arthur's room from the other side of the phone. The image moves and he's pointing it down the length of his body. He pulls off the blankets and I can see how I'm affecting him. It's ridiculous how quickly the bulge in his underwear makes my mouth water.

"Arthur..." I whisper. "Fuck." Words are failing me again.

"Is this okay?" he asks, as I watch him reach down and touch himself through his low-slung shorts.

"Yes," I smile stupidly. "Please, keep going. I love seeing you." I just watch him for a long moment, not saying anything, just ogling. "I wish I was there to help you with that." It sounds so fucking cringey that I regret saying it immediately. I'm miserable at dirty talk. There's a reason I write about wizarding adventures, not porn.

Arthur doesn't seem to mind, though. "You could help me from there," I hear him say. "Flip your camera around. We can do this together." 

"Just a sec." I scramble to prop up my phone on the nightstand at an angle where he can see me, and reluctantly pull my earbuds out. I sit on my bed just far enough away that I know Arthur will be able to watch me pull off my t-shirt and sweats. It's not exactly an elaborate strip-tease, but I hope he likes it. When I get to my boxer-briefs, I pause for a moment, and then I lift my hips and pull them down slowly, letting my stiff dick pop out to say hello. Arthur makes a pleased sound and it's loud enough that I hear it through the small speakers. I climb back into my warm bed, grabbing my phone again and mimicking Arthur's angle.

On screen, Arthur is sliding his shorts down too, and he makes a big show out of finally wrapping a hand around himself. I get my earbuds back in just in time to hear him groaning lightly. 

"How did you get so good at this?" I ask quietly, matching his pace, going slowly.

"I've had plenty of, ah, practice since I saw you last," he stutters out, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "Not on camera, though. This is another first. You seem to be getting a lot of firsts from me."

"I'm honoured, King Arturo." I hear him chuckle at the use of my cheesy nickname for him, see his abs twitch with the laugh. Fuck, Arthur has _abs_ now. "You look so--" I'm cut off by my own gasp, distracted by everything. "Have you.. ah, have you been working out or something?"

Arthur starts moving his hand faster, so do I. "I started going with my roommate. There's not much else to do when it's so fucking snowy outside." He's breathing harder. "And you... god, you haven't changed a bit. You look as hot as the day I -- oh --" his breath hitches. "I met you."

"I've changed some," I mumble, already self-conscious about how much of my life _hasn't_ changed. "I got a new haircut. I think I got taller." I think of how much taller than Arthur I already was, and wonder if our height difference now would make kissing him more difficult. God, I want to kiss him again. "I miss kissing you," I sigh into the mic. 

"I miss that, too." Arthur gasps. He sounds like he's getting close. "I mi--miss your mouth."

I want to push him over the edge. Grinning, I ask "What else do you miss about my mouth? I never got the chance to show you what else I can do with it." He groans again, and I feel close to coming myself. "I bet you taste amazing, Arthur. Would you like that?"

He gasps and the image on screen is getting shaky, as his hips start to buck up into his fist and then stills, and the hand holding the camera starts to lose its grip. Arthur doesn't answer my teasing questions because he's coming now, his legs flailing a little, and I can hear him trying to keep from crying out loud.

Watching him lose control sets me off as well. Toes curling, my whole body shakes from the release. I see stars, and struggle to catch my breath. 

Fuck, fuck, I wish he was here. I miss him so much.

"Ben," Arthur says quietly, calling my attention back. He's turned the camera back to his face and I do the same. He looks _wrecked_. I probably don't look much better. I'll need to clean up. After another long moment of basically just staring at each other through our phones, he admits, "I think I'm going to fall asleep soon." 

"It's okay," I nod. My exhaustion from my long day at work is creeping back over me. "Can we talk more tomorrow?" 

"Yes, please." Arthur yawns, and it's contagious because moments later I'm yawning too.

"Arthur?" 

He opens his eyes to look at me. A lot has changed, but Arthur's eyes will always be that familiar, impossible blue. "Mm-hmm?" 

"Don't send that picture to your other Ben. I want it to just be for me, okay?"

He smiles sleepily at me. "I wouldn't dream of it. Not now." He yawns again. "Not ever."

"Okay, good." I want to tell Arthur I love him, but somehow, even after all this, that feels like too much to say right now. Like, of all things, saying that word is still a step too far. "Goodnight?"

"Goodnight, Ben." He says, and I can feel the fondness in his voice through my whole body. It's close enough. The call ends and he's gone. 

Definitely better than a beach vacation.

**ARTHUR**  
Wednesday, April 1st

Last quarter of the semester, and things are busy. Too busy. All of my classes are gearing up for final projects, and essays, and it feels like the stakes are higher all of a sudden. I'm not loving the extra pressure to do well. I'm practically living in the library when not in class, and frankly I'm more stressed out than I thought was possible.

But everything changes when Great-Uncle Milton dies. 

My mom called me on my lunch break between classes to tell me. I was just about to dive in to some questionable-looking pasta when my phone rang. Seriously, who actually _calls_ people, other than moms and/or people with bad news? 

I'm sad, because he was a sweet old man (weird horse obsession aside) and he was family, but I'm not really shocked. Is that awful? Like, Milton had been sick for awhile with pneumonia, old people get sick a lot easier, and my mom was actually in New York spending time with him in the hospital when he passed. I should have gone to see him when he got sick, and I definitely should have gone when he was hospitalized. But with my trip home for the break, and all the unexpected Ben-related craziness that that entailed, and then the school year starting to wrap up and finals looming, it was easier than ever to make excuses, and I still hadn't made the visit. And now I'm too late. 

Milton's own kids/my mom's cousins/my second cousins once removed (I think?), aka the original owners of what I considered "my" bunk bed, don't live in the US and were still making arrangements to come home when he passed. I feel awful for them, I can't imagine not being there if something happened to either of my parents. Now they're on the next flight home from their respective cities. One will get in late tonight, the other tomorrow morning. And my dad is on his way to the airport now, it's a pretty short flight from Atlanta to JFK. My aunt is bringing my bubbe from New Haven, and we'll see them tomorrow too. 

Jewish funerals come together quickly, because it's traditional to do the burial as soon as possible, ideally the next day. But that means that I need to move fast, too. I scarf down my lunch while Mom gives me the details. It's a lot to take in all at once. It almost doesn't register that I'm suddenly leaving school for a few days.

I tell my mom I love her, and confirm when and where I'll meet her. After I hang up, I throw away what's left of my meal, stopping to say goodbye to some of my a cappella friends and let them know why I won't be at our next rehearsal. I have to get back to my dorm, pack a bag (my dad is bringing the suit I wore to prom from home), leave my roommate a note, email all my professors about my absence, and hop on a bus to the nearest Amtrak station.

This is not at all how I pictured going back to New York.

I wait until I am on the train before I text Ben -- _original_ Ben, not Ben-number-two, not blameless-Ben-the-almost-boyfriend that I shittily broke up with over text before things really had a chance to get going, not Ben who just had really bad wifi at his resort in Punta Cana and wasn't ignoring me on purpose -- but the Ben I'm stupidly in love with, and with whom I had phone sex on Spring Break. Ben who says he wants to see me, but still even after everything, hasn't expressly asked me to come visit him.

I text Real Ben: **Great Uncle Milton died.** Then I hastily add **(NOT an April Fools joke.)** Accompanied by a sad-face emoji, but just the frowny one, not a crying emoji, because I haven't actually cried about it and I don't want to be extra.

Ben texts back almost immediately, so he must not be in class either. **Oh wow, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?**

 **Thanks, yeah, I guess we knew it would happen somewhat soon. My mom has been staying with him and I regret not coming to visit when he got sick. He's been so kind to our family.** I realize this is the same as admitting that I could have come to the city anytime and chose not to. I cringe, realizing Ben might take that the wrong way, like I didn't want to see him, and send another text before he can reply. **I'm on my way to New York now.**

I feel like I'm holding my breath. I'm counting the seconds as I watch the ellipses bounce while he types.

Finally, his text pops up. **When is the funeral?**

Okay, so, no exclamation points and heart emojis, that's cool. Definitely the mature, appropriate response. My great-uncle didn't _die_ so that I could reunite with my ex-boyfriend. The universe isn't that much of a jerk. But if I'm lucky, I can multitask.

I text back with all the details that my mom had given me so far, and promise to let him know more when I had the specifics. It's all very best-friend-ly. Sensible. 

Fuck, I'm going to see him. I'm going to see Ben tomorrow, at a synagogue, at a funeral. With my whole family in attendance. Then we're going to bury my great uncle. 

Not the magical New York moment I was hoping for.

**BEN**  
Wednesday, April 1st

Arthur is is on his way to New York. 

Arthur is coming back for a funeral, but he's _coming back_. 

As much as it pains me to drop a shift, I call work to let them know I can't come in tomorrow morning because of said funeral. Then I call Ma to tell her, and see if she or Pa could come with me to the synagogue. I don't need parental supervision, but they really liked the Seusses, and frankly I haven't been to many funerals, so having one of them with me would make the whole thing a bit less nerve-wracking.

Then I text Dylan and Samantha, because I could use the moral support on the whole Arthur situation.

 **RED ALERT!!!** I text. **ARTHUR. TOMORROW.**

 **WHAT,** replies Samantha. **HOW. WHY.**

 **DUDE** , says Dylan almost at the same time, and I wonder if they're sitting next to each other. **If this is an April Fools thing, that's not cool. Don't toy with my emotions.**

**No joke. His great uncle died. The one whose apartment they were living in. You slept in his bed?? A's coming down from school for the funeral.**

**That's awful** , Samantha writes. **But I'm glad you get to see him. Have you guys been talking much lately?**

 **We weren't for awhile, but we started talking again over Spring Break and pretty much every day since then. Things seem different, GOOD different.** I don't feel the need to go into details about why or what that initial "talking" involved, as I'd never hear the end of it from Dylan. **Is it crazy that I kind of want to take him out on a date, not just hang out? How do I ask him that?**

 **Funerals aren't exactly romantic!!** Samantha points out.

 **But neither was a post office and they made that work** counters Dylan.

I chuckle as I type **His whole family, including a dead uncle, wasn't at the post office, though!** And then I add a bunch of family emojis and a coffin for morbid emphasis, because seriously though, it's a little different.

Samantha, the voice of reason, replies **Maybe start casual and go from there. Can you take him out afterward, give him a break from sad family stuff? When my grandma died, it was really nice to get out of the funeral home and go eat some comfort food with my cousins.**

 **That's a good point.** I knew she would be smart with this kind of thing. **That certainly sounds easier than planning yet another first date.**

 **Most people don't have this many chances at first dates, especially after almost 2 years** , Dylan writes. **You know so much more about him now. You can't possibly fuck it up.** He follows that epic pep talk with that meme of the "you got this" baby on the beach, which always makes me laugh.

 **Thanks guys** , I reply. **I have to get to class but I'll let you know how it all plays out.**

 **You're going to be great! Give Arthur a hug from me!** Samantha is such a sweetheart. 

**Grab his butt from me** adds Dylan, of course. **But like, after the funeral.**

\---

Thursday, April 2nd

Ma takes the morning off from working at the gym so we can travel uptown together. We crowd onto the L heading west and I'm grateful that for once, everything seems to be running on time. 

I've gotten aggressively much better at being not being late for things, but if there's one thing you _can't_ trust, it's the trains. I check the time on my phone, and force myself to breathe. I've done my part, it's in the hands of the MTA. But I can't help but feel impatient.

The funeral is on the Upper West Side, only a few blocks north from what I still think of as Arthur's apartment building, it's even the same subway stop. Though I suppose it was always just Great Uncle Milton's apartment. I wonder what will happen to it. Even more, I wonder what will happen to his myriad horse paintings. 

Arthur texted me this morning that the burial happens right afterwards but it's all the way out in Brooklyn, so basically just family and close friends are going. I'm a little relieved. I'd spent over an hour googling Jewish funerals and kind of freaking out about all the rules and traditions. I saved a bunch of notes on my phone on what I should do and say, but I know that none of that stuff is what I'm really nervous about. 

I can _say_ it's about being on time, or just going to a funeral that's making me nervous, but I know it's really about seeing Arthur again.

It's been so long since we've been together in the same place. No digital and physical distance. No slight delay if the wifi is spotty. No waiting for the other to pick up a call or reply to a message. 

We transfer trains, and this subway car isn't as packed as the first. We're outside of peak time now and I pretty much just stare into space as Ma sits beside me, quietly working on a sudoku that she fished out of her purse. She always has a sense of when I'm getting worked up, but I love that she doesn't ask me to talk about it. Ma always knows when I need that, and when I just need to think. She's just chill and that honestly helps more than motherly advice right now. 

As we approach our stop, she tucks away the puzzle and pats my knee. "Everything is going to be fine, Benito. I'm so proud of you for supporting your friend."

Friend. _Friend_. Are we friends? Are we really JUST friends? From the way we've been texting and talking lately, that feels like it's changing. Like we're getting another do-over. 

There isn't really time to get spun up about it again. We're off the train and through the gate and up the steps in a flash. It's only a block away. 

**I'm here!** I text Arthur, when we turn the corner, and Ma and I are within view of the synagogue. The message stays on ‘delivered', and I panic for a second -- what if maybe he already turned his phone onto airplane mode or something and doesn't know -- and then he walks out the front door.

**ARTHUR**  
Thursday, April 2nd

I'd been pacing around the lobby, fidgeting with my tie (a respectable normal tie, no hot dogs allowed), waiting for Ben to arrive. I'm sure to random guests, I just looked anxious or sad, but my parents knew what was up and didn't mind that I was away from the family for a few minutes. We had time before things got started, and they let me go. 

All it took was the notification ping. I didn't even open his text before I threw open the enormous wooden door and stepped into the morning sunshine.

There he is. Also, Mrs. Alejo, who looks up at Ben, who is very much looking right at me. Walking up the street toward me. After all this time, I feel like I'm going to burst.

And just like that, they close the distance, and Ben's standing in front of me. 

_Be cool_ , I remind myself. Be as cool as you can be standing outside a funeral, in a suit that's a little too tight and the black rayon kippah that my mom bobby-pinned to my hair. Exactly that cool.

"Hi." 

"Hi." 

We just stand there grinning at each other like idiots for a few seconds before I remember that a) other people in the universe exist, and more importantly b) we're at a funeral and I'm representing my whole family right now. I turn to his mom and I turn on my social graces. "Hi Mrs. Alejo. Thank you for coming."

"Arthur, it's so good to see you again." She bridges the gap between us and wraps me into a sweet hug. "I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances." 

I hug her back, because I'm an excellent hugger, even in awkward situations. "Thanks, we're all going to miss him." 

When she pulls away, she pats Ben's shoulder and says "I'm going to head inside and find us some seats." And just like that, we're left alone on the sidewalk. 

I check the time, and do some quick math. I need to get back to my family before the service begins. I wince. Like always, I wish we had more time. But when I look back up at Ben, he's watching me.

"Do you have to go in?" he asks.

"Soon. Not yet." I look back at my phone, and it hasn't magically added any time. "We only have a few minutes."

"Oh, okay." I catch something off in his voice. He looks as nervous as I feel.

"Yeah, my family are waiting for me. It's okay, though. My mom says Hi."

There are still a few people arriving, so I'm not late yet, but we're blocking the doors. Ben unexpectedly reaches up and gently pulls on my sleeve to guide me out of the way. I shuffle closer to him as a result, and the sudden urge to curl into him is overwhelming. His palm slides down my arm from where he'd pulled on my jacket, and just that one point of contact is electrifying. When he reaches my bare wrist, and then slowly interlaces his fingers with mine, it feels tentative. Like a question. I squeeze his hand "yes" in response.

"It's good to see you," Ben says quietly. 

"You too," I sigh. "I wish I'd come sooner. I just..." I trail off and shrug, because I don't want to admit that I'd been waiting for him to ask. It sounds idiotic the moment I think it. Why was I waiting for Ben? I didn't need his _permission_. "I don't know."

"You're here now, though." He squeezes my hand back. I sure am. "I want to see you later. Can I see you later?" 

"I have family stuff today. When we get back from the burial, we have to do this traditional meal at the apartment. My bubbe and my cousins are going to sit shiva there." I don't know if Ben knows anything about Jewish funerals, so I start to explain, but he stops me. He googled it. Of course he did. "But maybe when I get back to my hotel tonight? I'll text you the address. It's near here."

"That works." Ben smiles down at me. Did he get taller? I think he's taller. "When do you go back to school?"

"Sunday afternoon. I got excused from class for a few days, but I'll have a lot to catch up on when I get back. I doubt I'll get any work done this weekend." I _refuse_ to waste a moment of New York on homework.

"Is your family keeping you busy the whole time?"

"Well, mostly. It's rare that my mom's family all gets together like this, pretty much just weddings and funerals, so there's a few things planned. But, do you have time later this weekend, too?" I shouldn't assume that Ben won't have plans this weekend. I know I just sort of dropped back into his life without warning "I'd like to see you more than just tonight." 

"Arthur, I want to see as much of you as possible." Ben catches himself off-guard and makes a face. "Uh, I didn't mean it like that."

"You didn't?" I wiggle my eyebrows and lean in closer. Usually I'm the one making unintentionally-suggestive remarks. My mind flashes back to Spring Break and I suddenly want to kiss Ben so badly, but this isn't the time or place. Besides, I don't trust myself not to get carried away moments before I have to go be a pallbearer. Great Uncle Milton had a pretty good sense of humour, but something tells me all of my very-much-alive relatives wouldn't be laughing if they stepped out and saw me crowding Ben up against the wall of the synagogue.

Ben grins, and tilts his face down until his lips are on my forehead and he's talking into my hairline. His free hand is warm on the back of my neck. "Okay, I meant it a little like that. But mostly I just want to spend time with you. Whatever that entails."

"Even going to a funeral for a nice old Jewish man that you've never even met?" I sigh and regretfully pull away from him, turning to look up at the beautiful stone building. It's time.

"Yep, even that." 

**BEN**  
Thursday, April 2nd

It was a nice service, not that I have much to compare it to. The rabbi spoke, a few people got up and told stories about Milton's life, there were some prayers (though I couldn't understand them) and Ma cried, which was very sweet, even though she'd never met him either. The whole thing took about an hour, and I realize now that I did way too much research. In the end, it wasn't much different from the few Catholic funerals I'd been to, just with different traditional prayers and a lot more Hebrew.

I'm walking Ma back to the subway station so she can head back to work, and then I'm going to find some street meat before walking across Central Park towards school for my afternoon classes. It's a sunny day, albeit a little cold, and I feel like I should take advantage of the sunshine while I can get it. My college is just on the other side of the park, and it will only take 15 minutes longer to walk than it would to take the train. 

"Will you be home for dinner?" Ma asks, pausing at the top of the subway stairs, and I honestly don't know. I'll go home after my last class, I guess, but really just to change and drop my books, ready to fly out of the apartment at the sound of Arthur's ringtone. 

I have a feeling I'm going to spend the entire day staring at my phone, waiting for him to text. To summon me with a magic spell. He's going to be busy with family, and I shouldn't expect anything until late afternoon at the earliest, but if I was distracted by Arthur at all in the last year and a half, I sure as fuck will be distracted by him today.

I kiss Ma goodbye, and I can tell she knows how big a deal this is. She just reminds me that I have work in the morning, and maybe not to stay out all night, before heading down the steps toward the station. 

Stay out all night?

I head east in a bit of a daze. All night. All night with Arthur. That's a thing I _could_ do tonight. We're not barely seventeen anymore, and it frankly hadn't occurred to me that despite still living at home, I might no longer be burdened by high school curfews, or having to lie and say I'm at Dylan's, or otherwise sneak around. Really goes to show how much of a social life I've had since starting college that this hasn't come up before now.

I find a hot dog cart, and eat my lunch carefully. If I'm going to spend the rest of the afternoon dressed in my "church clothes," I better not get condiments all over myself. 

The walk across the park gives me time to come up with ideas for Arthur. With what little time we have together, I want to tick more of his New York boxes. It drives me crazy how much he loves all the touristy shit. I want to show him more of my neighbourhood, take him to places he didn't get to experience the last time he was here. Take him to a little hole in the wall restaurant, and weird stores, and bring him back to my place again, make new memories of him with my family. 

Or I can scrap all of that, and just crawl into bed in his hotel room, and stay there until he has to go back to Connecticut. Tough call.

But before I can get lost in fantasy, logic barges in. I have to work tomorrow, and he'll probably have stuff to do with his own family. Uncle Milton stuff. He wants to see me but he's not here for me. I'm a side quest. We just don't have enough _time_.

Why the fuck didn't I invite him to visit? We could have skipped all the pining and awkwardness and other Bens and so, so much lost time.

All for... what? Personal growth? That's starting to feel overrated.

**ARTHUR**  
Thursday, April 2nd

Nothing makes me feel guiltier than feeling like I'm disappointing my family, so I do everything I can to be present and interested throughout the funeral, and the burial, and the Seudat Havra'ah meal afterwards. I try very hard to focus, and to forget that the promise of Ben is waiting for me at the end of the day. 

And really, it's not like it's torture. My family is wonderful. The day has a sombre tone over it, sure, but the warmth of my family cuts through the sadness. I love hearing stories about Milton's childhood. I hear all kinds of stories for the first time, and remixes of old ones. He and my bubbe grew up in New York and she makes it sound like they had a pretty magical youth. I suspect there were probably some shitty parts too, but those stories are skipped in favour of keeping the mood light and nostalgic. 

I even finally get an answer about all the horse portraits. It wasn't nearly as deep and mysterious as I'd imagined. Milton worked at one of the Carriage Horse stables as a teenager in the 1950s, and just sorta fell in love with horses in general. It started with a couple of small portraits of horses he actually knew, done by an old friend who was actually at the funeral today, and then his collection just expanded from there. 

Turns out everybody has a fandom, and Milton's was horses. 

After a long afternoon of sharing stories, a lot of food and a little bit of wine, we finally head back to our hotel. Quite frankly, all I want to do is collapse onto the bed in my room to recharge (both my phone and my body), but it's only six o'clock and I soon have to head back out with my parents for actual supper before I can do anything else. Dad and I both arrived pretty late last night and we haven't had much time, aside from a quick breakfast this morning, for just the three of us. Fortunately, they're both as tired as I am and we agree on a cheap and easy chain restaurant down the block. 

At least the funereal activities are over, so I can shed my suit and tie in favour of something, I don't know, anything else. I packed in a hurry yesterday, so I don't exactly have anything particularly cool or date-worthy in my suitcase, and I figure jeans and a sweater will have to suffice. I definitely don't think about Ben as I strip down and change into fresh clothes, wondering if he'll be the one to take them off later.

I perch on the edge of the bed to use my phone while it's still plugged in. I don't know what the night will bring, so I better go into it with a decently charged battery.

 **Getting pizza with my parents** , I text him. **Can we meet up after?**

 **Dessert?** Ben replies. **Have you been back to Times Square yet? I know you love that hellhole.**

**Aw, you'd be a lame tourist with me?**

**Only because it's you, Arthur.** KISSY FACE EMOJI. **First stop, M &Ms store at 8:00?**

I grin down at my phone. **It's a date.**

**BEN**  
Thursday, April 2nd

 **It's a date.** A date, he said. This is really happening. Again.

**ARTHUR**  
Thursday, April 2nd

Almost there. I'm so excited to get to him, I'd wolfed my pizza down in record time. Dad slipped me some extra cash while my mother wasn't looking, and they let me leave before the waiter even came around with the bill or to ask if anyone wanted coffee. 

**Almost there. Where are you?** I text Ben when I emerge from the 50th street station a few minutes before 8:00pm. 

I barely pause to gawp at all the giant dazzling lights and endless billboards already surrounding me before I'm even technically in Times Square. It's overwhelming in the best way. I already feel like I'm home.

Even almost two years later, this whole part of the city feels like home to me, as much as I know Ben would roll his eyes to hear it. It's funny how the most famous part of a city doesn't count as the "real" part to native New Yorkers. Yeah, it's fake, it's "too commercial," but that's precisely what I love about it. Everywhere I look, it's theatre marquees and billboards and advertisements for Broadway and music and movies and all the stuff I love that I've pretty much had to put on the backburner while focusing on school. It's a feast for the eyes of a pop culture junkie. I soak it in.

My phone buzzes. **Right outside the store, slowpoke!** I pick up my pace, hustling down the sidewalk as casually as possible. I don't want him to catch me running to him like a weirdo.

I see _her_ before I see Ben: the giant sexy Green M&M on a bright flashing screen outside. I can't help but chuckle, thinking about our absurd conversation about her on our disastrous first date. 

And then I reach the corner, and I spot Ben leaning up against the store's glass windows, backed by the glow of primary candy colours, watching the crowds swarming by. It feels just as good to see him now as it did this afternoon, except now I'm not pressed for time, and nobody is watching us. It's just us. 

Ben takes his earbuds out as he sees me approach, and his face cracks into a grin that feels like the sun. I revel in it, smiling back, until the moment stretches out a beat too long and maybe I should probably be saying something? Anything?

He beats me to it. "Hey." And before I can even put together words, he's got me by the lapels of my pea coat and is pulling me in for a kiss. 

It's warm, and soft, and absolutely devastatingly brief. 

He pulls back much too soon, and is looking at me questioningly, like maybe that was too much too fast. As it happens, I feel myself wanting to follow him, to get lost in his mouth right here on the crowded corner of 7th and west 48th, but _that_ might be a bit much. 

"Hey, yourself," I reply at last, resigned to take a respectable half step back out of his bubble of space. Tongue-tied, I fumble around for words in the wake of that kiss, and land on idle small talk. "Have you, ah, been waiting long?"

"No, not really. Only about..." he glances at the time on his phone's lock screen "...a year and a half." He looks sheepish at the dumb joke, but the ice is officially broken. I grab his hand, and pull him into the busy store. 

Even for a Thursday night in April, the place is crawling with tourists, and I know this is probably hell for Ben, but it's not showing on his face. He's looking remarkably chill for someone who hates this kind of store. He's still holding my hand, our fingers interlaced, and I lead him around the different displays, considering all of the delicious options. We wander upstairs, and even while on the narrow escalator, he's still got his hand on my arm, like I might float away if he lost his grip for even a moment. 

We talk idly about classes we're taking, and projects and papers. I tell him about Milton's horses, and some other stories I'd learned about him this afternoon, and Ben tells me about his job and the weird shit customers do. I take my time picking out a snack, because the longer we're together, I find I'm way more focused on talking to him than I care about the chocolate. 

I also dropped a pretty exciting piece of news: my mom's cousins are keeping the apartment as a _pied-à-terre_ , and have asked my mom to keep staying there whenever she's in the city instead of hiring someone to look after the place. They even asked if I would like to check in on it for them, since I'm the only one who lives relatively nearby. I can even come back in the summer, if I was trying for another internship in the city!

"That's incredible, Arthur!" Ben hugs me in the middle of the ridiculous store. I can't tell if it's a best friends hug, or something closer to the quick kiss he'd given me outside, but I hug him back. It's not the same as moving here permanently, but knowing I still have a place to stay means _possibilities_.

I end up picking normal M&Ms but in a super touristy tin container emblazoned with iconic New York images, and the green M&M in the center of it all, dressed like the Statue of Liberty. I figure once I finish my candy, it will be a useful little storage box for keepsakes. I've only been back in the city for a day, and I'm already feeling sentimental. 

"Where to next?" I ask when we finally get in line to pay for my souvenir. 

"I didn't really want to overplan this," he admits. "I have a lot of ideas, but I figured you might have a few places you'd want to go, since you haven't come to visit since you left."

"I didn't think you wanted me to," I reply. Oh, ouch. I regret saying it before the words even finish coming out of my mouth. Shit. Shit shit shit. I didn't mean to admit that.

Ben looks surprised. "Wait. Why wouldn't I?"

We step closer to the register as the line moves ahead. Standing in line while surrounded by a bunch of strangers might not be the best place for a heart to heart, even if it does weirdly echo the day we met when he was just mysterious and cute Box Boy. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I just meant, I don't know, you never said anything about it. You never actually asked me to come."

Instead of getting prickly, like I thought he might, Ben sighs and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in so he can speak quietly in my ear. "We are both extremely bad at communicating what we want."

**BEN**  
Thursday, April 2nd

When we leave the store, I expect Arthur to head south towards the lights and sounds of Times Square, but instead he's pulling me back the way he came. "Let's go home," he says, but his hopeful smile means the evening isn't over, and I follow him without hesitation.

When we reach his hotel, I feel like I'm being snuck into his room, even though I'm hardly wearing an invisibility cloak. Arthur scoots me inside as quickly as possible, and texts his parents that he's back, instead of walking over to their room a few doors down. It's early yet, and I wonder if they thought he'd be out late, like the impression my Ma seemed to have this afternoon. Although, not knowing how long I'd be here, she might be right.

I wriggle out of my jacket and boots as he exchanges a few more texts with them, little pings and typing noises, presumably getting updates on various family events the next day. By the time he finishes, I'm in my sock feet, sitting at the end of his hotel bed, and he's still got all of his outdoor things on. 

"Take your coat off and stay awhile?" I joke, and when he gets close enough, I start helping him with his buttons as he toes off his shoes. I'm about to unfurl his scarf but instead I take the opportunity to pull his face invitingly closer to mine. He grins wickedly and closes the gap, and my brain is shouting _Arthur Arthur Arthur_ as he kisses me. 

There's confidence in the way he moves that takes me by surprise, even though it shouldn't. I knew there were other guys in Arthur's life after me, before this, between us. He's not the same kid who freaked the first time we made out. And I'm not allowed to waste even a second on feeling jealous of those other dudes, because I know that it was my stupid idea to break it off, and I didn't exactly make an effort to hook up with anyone else myself. 

And besides, aren't we here now, together? I push it out of my mind and let him press me down onto the mattress, his hands dipping under my sweater to grab ahold of my waist. I jerk back suddenly, and Arthur freezes like he'd crossed a line, but I'm laughing. "Sorry, ticklish!"

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes. "I forgot!" The spell is broken though, and Arthur tips to the side, rolling off of me and sitting up. 

"Where are you going?" I feel like I've lost a limb. Ugh, I hope it doesn't come out as anxious as I suddenly feel. 

"Nowhere," he answers quickly. "Just getting more comfortable." He makes a little pile on the night stand of his glasses and phone, and then lies back down, patting the space next to him encouragingly. I'm still down at the end of the bed where we started, so I scoot up towards the pillows -- so many pillows, why do hotel beds give you a million pillows? -- and he wraps his arms around me.

We just hold each other for a few minutes, breathing each other in. It's honestly fucking magical.

"You said we suck at communicating," Arthur mumbles into my neck, breaking the long silence. "We should probably get better at that starting now."

"Agreed," I say softly. "Where do we start?"

"I missed you," he says, matter-of-factly, but with warmth in his voice. "I haven't stopped missing you, and I think we could make this work if you want it to." 

I pull back enough that I can see Arthur's face, cupping his jaw in my hand. "I've missed you too, and I think you're right." We just grin stupidly at each other for a long moment, and I kiss him again.

He curls back into my shoulder. "I'm only 2 hours away. This whole year, I was only 2 hours away."

"I know," I say, nodding. "I've google mapped it. I've had daydreams where you just showed up to surprise me. I didn't think it would happen like this, though."

"Daydreams?"

"And night dreams. All the dreams. I have an excellent imagination!" 

"I know you do," Arthur laughs. 

Fuck, I missed his laugh. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, and I feel more brave about returning to the conversation we'd started in line to buy M&Ms. "You never thought about coming to see me?"

"I thought about it constantly, but I was waiting for you to ask me," he answers. "I never considered just _showing up_. I didn't want to impose."

"I'm sorry that I didn't ask." And I mean it. Wow, I'm an idiot. 

Arthur looks thoughtful, though. "Let's agree, from now on, that we won't just lie in our separate beds, pining over each other's photos while jerking off and/or sulking? We'll talk, and make actual plans to see each other?"

"Did you hide a spy cam in my room?" I tease, but slide my free hand down to squeeze his butt. I feel extremely called out, but I'm not embarrassed. I definitely still have the pic he sent me accidentally a few weeks ago, and I maybe sent one in return the next night, very much on purpose. This is ridiculous. "We're pretty shitty at the whole platonic best friends thing, aren't we?"

"Incredibly shitty," Arthur agrees, nodding. 

"Do you..." I pause, a little nervous. "Do you want to try being non-platonic long distance boyfriends, instead?"

" _Best_ boyfriends," he says. "Yes." He's already moving to kiss me again, and I gladly meet him halfway. It's hard to kiss while smiling this hard, but somehow I manage to only bite him a little bit.

It doesn't take long for us to move from sweet kisses to pawing at each other's clothes again, but this time we make actual progress. I slide Arthur's sweater over his head before yanking my own t-shirt off, and I lie back down again before attempting to deal with belts and buckles and zippers and socks. I pull him in close, sliding my hands along his back. Arthur's hands are on me, too, but I don't squirm away from him this time. I'm too turned on to be ticklish. 

When Arthur stops kissing me sort of abruptly, I open my eyes to see that he's okay, but he's not looking at me. He's turned away, breathing hard, his face tucked into my neck and looking down between us at our half-naked bodies tangled up in each other. I wonder if he's thinking what I'm thinking: how did we get here? In two months, we went from occasional flirting, to barely talking while he hooked up with some other Ben, to surprise phone sex, to _this._

 _Oh._ Or maybe the timing of it wasn't what he was thinking about at all. Because suddenly Arthur's moving southward down the bed, undoing my jeans, and pulling them down my thighs. There's no hiding how hard he's made me, but I try to stifle the moan I let slip when he touches me. He looks up at me with eyebrows raised and a proud grin.

"Can I?" he asks, stroking me softly through my underwear. I nod vigorously, not even sure what he's asking. Anything, anything he wants. 

Arthur moves to straddle my legs, pulling my jeans off all the way. I want to watch him, curious about his apparent plans, but the second his lips meet the skin just about my waistband, sparks shoot up and down my spine and my eyes slip shut. He's crouched over me now, and I can feel his warm breath as he moves, gentle kisses turning into tentative licks, first just to my stomach and then lower, inch by inch. I can feel his breath through the fabric as he mouths over my stiff dick, teasing me. He sits up for a moment, and he's pulling me out of my underwear now, and I nearly pass out from the joy of it.

The second I feel his lips slip around my dick, I gasp and my hand flies into his hair, but I resist the urge to pull. He makes me feel incredible. He _is_ incredible. And Arthur knows what's he doing -- he's done this before. Not with me, no, somehow we skipped this step on the one real night we had together. But again I push those jealous feelings away because instead, holy _shit,_ I owe a deep debt of gratitude to whatever random boy in Connecticut taught him how.

As he brings me closer to the edge, I'm almost in disbelief that this is Arthur, my Arthur, my boyfriend-again Arthur, between my legs in a hotel room, taking me apart with his mouth after a year and a half away. It feels incredibly surreal. I open my eyes to look down at him, to confirm for sure that it's not a dream.

When I catch his eye, he smiles at me from around my dick. My muscles clench and there's no time to warn him before I come.

**ARTHUR**  
Friday, April 3rd

It's after midnight, and I'm curled around Ben, my chest sticking to his back. We're both naked and sweaty, trying to keep from falling asleep, but he's yawning and I know soon I will be, too. Neither of us want this night to end. I reach down and pull the duvet up around our shoulders so we don't wake up freezing in the middle of the night. 

Ben has to work in the morning, and agreed to spend the night only after we set three different alarm clocks to make sure he could get up, shower and eat in time to get back across the city before his shift. I set the alarms extra early, in case we get... distracted. 

He was surprised, and I think a little flattered that despite everything else, I hadn't had actual sex with anyone else since I was with him. I knew _he'd_ been single since I left, but I had been pretty vague about the actual details of the other guys I'd been with. So maybe that threw him for a loop, especially after I'd shown off a little with the other skills I'd picked up along the way. 

So it meant we were back on neutral ground for a little while, both awkward and fumbling a little, which was reassuring for both of us. He had come cautiously prepared, too, which is more than I could say. I hadn't thought to pack thirty-six condoms when I was throwing stuff in my suitcase, rushing to the city for Milton's funeral.

And now, luxuriating in this ridiculously over-sized bed, Ben pulls my arms tighter around him. I love that he wants to be the little spoon, even when he's so much taller. Then, quietly, sleepily he asks "Why did you wait for me?" 

"Because those other guys weren't you."

"You liked them enough, though?" He wriggles backwards, trying to get closer even though we're already skin to skin.

"Yeah," I admit, hesitating a little. "But... I didn't _love_ them. Not how I love you." 

I hadn't even realized what I'd said until he's suddenly turning around in my arms, readjusting until we're face to face. The room is dark, but thanks to the faint glow of cell phones, clocks and the city lights shining through our window, I can see that Ben's beaming from ear to ear. 

"Te amo too, Arthur."

And I pull my boyfriend in for another kiss goodnight.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a New Yorker, I just visit when I can, so please let me know if there are any technical corrections. :) I did a little bit of 'location scouting' in my plotting of this fic, but those real-world details didn't seem vitally important to include.
> 
> Title is from Jonas Brothers' "Used to Be."
> 
> (Also, hello from a few months after posting-- I obviously wrote this pre-COVID. Let's all live in the fantasy of a 2020 without a global pandemic, shall we?)


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